


Love thy Enemy

by GwiYeoWeo



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Implied/Referenced DanVer, Light Angst, M/M, aka Mundus made V from the humanity he took from Nelo Angelo, clone?V, depressed!Dante, slightlyYandere!V
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:42:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28737459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwiYeoWeo/pseuds/GwiYeoWeo
Summary: “Vergil, we only ever fought. When we were kids, when we found each other again, even when” — Dante’s voice breaks, a small crack spreading into a web of glass —  “even when I didn’t know it was you.”Ah, how time and guilt changes a person. V knew, the moment he crossed the threshold of the shop, that the hot blood of their youth must have at least tempered or simmered now; but to hear the words himself, to see the deep lines and deeper shadows plague his once brightly-burning brother, makes him realize just how far off his calculations may actually be.Not at all unpleasant, knowing the possibilities.Mundus created V out of the remaining humanity he had taken for the birth of his Nelo Angelo, in a plan to stop Urizen's uprising and entangle Dante into it. Not a bad idea, V thinks, but Mundus misunderstood just how much greed V would inherit from Vergil.
Relationships: Dante/V (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32
Collections: Spardacest Server Fics and Art





	Love thy Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> /fingerguns

“I can’t kill you again, Vergil.”

In the silence following Dante’s confession, V marvels at the destruction time’s brought. How it wears down on what should have been an iron wall, unbreakable and bullheaded, into little more than sand and loam. 

V feels the tickle of a smile dance at his lips. The weight of despair that ties itself around Dante’s throat and drowns his voice is delicious, another weakness for V to wrap his eager fingers around and exploit. He accounted for his fire-blooded brother, not this soft-hearted thing. How easy it all will be, then. So instead of using the force that he had thought he would need, he curls a fair hand around Dante’s cheek, bids him to raise his head that’s so heavy with both remorse and relief.

Dante traps V’s hand against his face with his own, turns his lips to press against V’s palm. How vulnerable.

“You won’t,” V says, watching the tension ease off Dante’s shoulders, feeling the shuddering breath ghost his fingers and knuckles. Funny, how he acts like V’s just given him a mercy when it’s anything but. “You only need to weaken him, enough for us to merge — and you shall have your brother returned whole.”

Oh, but if only Dante knew. That this bag of bones and fake heart isn’t his brother’s at all; just a wiry frame made of brimstone and sulfur, encasing the leftover humanity Mundus had plucked out from his Nelo Angelo. Impressive foresight, he thinks, to save even this weak, presumably useless aspect of Vergil to ultimately turn it against him. 

Under Mundus, Trish almost managed to deceive Dante; surely the shadow of a brother and the plaguing guilt of fratricide should bring at least half the results. And unlike her bleeding heart, V has no room for redemption and shame. Mundus may have a hand in his existence, may have twisted and corrupted what little good and honor that remained in Vergil’s human heart, but that hardly makes up the motivation driving him. He has his own vendetta against the man who ignored and cursed his humanity for far too long.

What better way than to use the one who killed Vergil in the first place. 

“What if I only need you?” But Dante’s whisper, that barest hint of fear and shame, rattles something in V, knocks that stake of conviction just a bit loose and angles it somewhere off course. 

V certainly didn’t expect _this_ , and he only thinks rather than speaks, trying to place this new variable into all of this. What now? V had planned to exploit Dante’s guilt, to offer him a chance at redemption by bringing back his brother. To _attempt_ to bring back his brother, as V would only give him an illusion of hope. Mundus wanted Vergil dead, now that he posed a real threat to the Underworld’s throne, the only real purpose for which V was born. 

“Vergil, we only ever fought. When we were kids, when we found each other again, even when” — Dante’s voice breaks, a small crack spreading into a web of glass — “even when I didn’t know it was you.” 

Ah, how time and guilt changes a person. V knew, the moment he crossed the threshold of the shop, that the hot blood of their youth must have at least tempered or simmered now; but to hear the words himself, to see the deep lines and deeper shadows plague his once brightly-burning brother, makes him realize just how far off his calculations may actually be.

Not at all unpleasant, knowing the possibilities.

He could keep Dante like this, at his side. The legendary devil hunter on a leash, tethered and tamed. Perhaps, if he’s feeling rebellious, he might even rise up against his dear creator. Dante’s defeated him before, sealed him off at Mallet Island. Surely, now that he’s older and wisened up a bit, with Mundus still recovering from his humiliation and his powers spread thin, they could bury the old king for good. Mundus may be his master, but that does not afford him any affection from V. 

He has this paltry existence thanks to Mundus, but he wouldn't have to exist if not for the same reason. He never wanted this — to live at someone else's mercy, for their selfish purposes, and definitely not as a fraction of who he really is. Of who he once was. 

He could have had everything. _Vergil_ could have had everything. 

He could have had Dante.

Well, V will just have to enjoy him in Vergil’s stead, he decides. 

“And you’ll have to fight again,” V coos, gently guiding Dante’s head to his chest, carding his fingers through scraggly hair. How easy it would be to take all of Dante for himself. His affections, his attention and love, his life. It’s a bit of a shame that it took so much loss for V — and Vergil — to admit what he wanted. What he still wants: to be loved and protected. But now, like this, he literally has them in his hands. If he plays his cards right, he can keep it that way. “One last fight. You can manage it, can’t you? For me.”

V has no intention of reuniting with Vergil. Dante said it himself: they’ve only ever fought. And sweet, sweet Dante’s weary of it all; he deserves a proper, loving brother. Vergil could never fill that role, but V? Oh, he could play it perfectly. 

But this demon Vergil’s become, Urizen or whatever he wants to call himself now, is an obstacle barring their way. V no doubts Dante may have second thoughts in the future, that he may realize he truly does want Vergil and the violence he brings with him. V doesn’t fault him for that, but he doesn’t like it. Either way, he’s made his mind to have Dante for himself, and as long as he plans everything carefully, so it shall be. 

Dante buries his face into the crook of V’s neck, wrapping his arms around tight enough that V feels the tremble in his muscles. He’s like a child, V thinks, holding onto a stuffed toy in fear of losing it. It’s almost so sweet that it’s sickening; V could choke on this desperate affection, were it not for his own greed. 

“For you.” 

V smiles out of wicked satisfaction, and he rewards Dante’s answer with a kiss to his hair. So long as Dante keeps that attitude up, he will never be in want of love. 

“Good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> cue V's bloody palace ending where he absorbs vergil, then he and dante live happily(?) ever after


End file.
